


Burning Pomegranates

by purplesocrates



Series: The Altar of Hades [2]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Blood, M/M, Murder, Sex, more kissing, the usual
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-22
Updated: 2017-08-22
Packaged: 2018-12-18 15:04:13
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,405
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11877042
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/purplesocrates/pseuds/purplesocrates
Summary: Will dreams of caverns under a city holding the dead in a hollow embrace. He dreams of girls mounted on stag heads the blood congealed around the horns no longer flowing in their veins. He dreams of Abigail speaking silent words of comfort to cool his fevered mind. He dreams of Hannibal's hands touching his skin, his muscles, his veins, his bones. He imagines falling from a precipice hands grasping onto Hannibal, falling together to the underworld. He dreams of following a path of pomegranate seeds to his undoing.Hannibal dreams of fire and water, cold and heat, of drowning and of swimming, of clutching and letting go. He dreams of his reflection looking like Will but with eyes darker like a stormy sky. He dreams of rivers and rivers of blood. He dreams of pale skin and brown curly hair matted in sweat and black blood. He dreams of hearts made of folded bones and skin like paper. He dreams of loss and of gain, of winning and of losing. He dreams of Will kissing him, biting into his flesh and tasting the sulphur that lies just under the surface.





	Burning Pomegranates

Will feels nothing but heat now, it's searing and pure between them. He is being worshipped by a pagan god, consumed and released. He wonders at how they got here, he wonders at how it took them this long. The inevitability of it now is so obvious as he feels those teeth pierce his skin small beads of blood licked away and the promise of a bruise blooming underneath the surface. He moans as Hannibal smiles.

“We shouldn't do this here.” Will whispers as he manages to find words again.

Hannibal moves away from him but is still all together too close. Will imagines them entwined together flames lick at their skin, flesh melting and burning. It feels searing, pleasure and pain combining to consume them both in a shared ecstasy.

“You kissed me.” Hannibal reminds him as he takes a step back and let's Will’s hand fall from his own, Will almost shivers at the sudden cold he feels at its loss.

Will has kept on kissing Hannibal after the first time in his office, he has kissed him in his dreams over and over. Now in Will’s lecture hall after hours when he should be looking at the pictures of death spread across his desk. Will had lost all track of time and missed his appointment, Hannibal had appeared suddenly in front of him like a mirage and Will had thought he had been dreaming again right up until Hannibal had drawn blood.

Will’s hand covers the mark on his neck he can feel the blood just under the surface he imagines the cells Hannibal tasted on his tongue seeping inside Hannibal's own bloodstream merging with his blood. Will feels the mark cooling under his fingertips and he longs for the burn to come back.

“I know but we can't-“

“Tell anyone I know Will.” Hannibal moves further away from Will and looks at the pictures on the desk. “Tell me about your killer Will.” He says and Will shivers finding words to describe the macabre just before Jack appears and is surprised to find Hannibal next to Will who wonders where else Hannibal would be.

  
Will keeps kissing Hannibal. He kisses him when Will is asleep, he kisses him in his daydreams when they are in the lab, imagining pushing him against the cold metal drawers where they keep the bodies of the dead, he kisses him in his office again by the window with the snow falling outside, he kisses him before he leaves pushing him against the door and moaning Hannibal’s name into his mouth like prayer.

Hannibal let's Will kiss him in his mind, in his office, in Will’s lecture hall where he tells his students the story of Hannibal's own design in better words than he could find himself, he lets Will kiss him wherever they are. He lets Will because he wants to absorb each kiss as a prayer adding to his power, adding fuel to the holy fire that is burning in Will’s brain. He wants the sacrifice, he needs it to fuel his own power.

Will dreams of caverns under a city holding the dead in a hollow embrace. He dreams of girls mounted on stag heads the blood congealed around the horns no longer flowing in their veins. He dreams of Abigail speaking silent words of comfort to cool his fevered mind. He dreams of Hannibal's hands touching his skin, his muscles, his veins, his bones. He imagines falling from a precipice hands grasping onto Hannibal, falling together to the underworld. He dreams of following a path of pomegranate seeds to his undoing.

Hannibal dreams of fire and water, cold and heat, of drowning and of swimming, of clutching and letting go. He dreams of his reflection looking like Will but with eyes darker like a stormy sky. He dreams of rivers and rivers of blood. He dreams of pale skin and brown curly hair matted in sweat and black blood. He dreams of hearts made of folded bones and skin like paper. He dreams of loss and of gain, of winning and of losing. He dreams of Will kissing him, biting into his flesh and tasting the sulphur that lies just under the surface.

“We can tell no one.” Those words keep leaving Will’s lips, they leave them again when he is kissing Hannibal pressed up against Hannibal's own front door. Will has seen the power of those hands inside another body and he longs for them to be inside his own. He dragged Hannibal here and cannot stop himself from worshipping at this altar.

“Will” Hannibal's voice is a pull to Will, a grounding and commanding force, a siren call he cannot resist.

Will wants Hannibal to pull him further down into the fire, he wants to be consumed, flesh burned away molecule by molecule he wants to be surrounded by heat and pleasure. “Please Hannibal, please.”

He wants Hannibal to lead him to the darkness of his self, the hot heavy blackness that threatens to blind him. Will longs to be blinded he longs to not see. Hannibal takes him to his bed where skin crashes against skin like that inevitable wave. Will is consumed with pleasure he can feel nothing but red hot fire in his veins he is burning from the inside out and Hannibal is his fuel.

Hannibal knows they shouldn't be doing this that the game has just become something else, something elevated and divine. He is going to be seen he longs to be seen. He feels unmoored and unleashed his control is fading, his mask is slipping. He leaves pomegranate seeds for Will to pick up, each one drenched in blood, each one leading them closer to the inevitable.

“We can tell no one.” Hannibal whispers in Will’s ear as he falls asleep exhausted and burning up on cool silk sheets in Hannibal's bed.

Will keeps finding his way to Hannibal's bed he keeps picking up those blood drenched seeds and swallowing them whole. Blood seeps down his throat doing nothing to quench his thirst and everything to stoke his dark fire. His skin feels stretched too thin to contain his fever he is losing himself. He can feel the desperation burning off his skin and he is powerless to do anything but walk further into the flames.

He lets Hannibal fuck his fever into oblivion, he lets him push further and further inside until they are one. Will thinks he is in control. Hannibal thinks he has control. They are both powerless at the altar of each other. The only thing left they can sacrifice now is blood. This fevered sweetness between them demands it flowing out into a stream covering everything they were and everything they could have been.

The secrets they share are locking them together in a furnace of all consuming heat, Will is almost completely burnt out now and Hannibal cannot stop looking at the beauty of it. The last blood sacrifice is made to clear Will of the scales in front of his eyes. Hannibal watches as they fall and clatter on the ground. There is such beauty in destruction, divine darkness in falling.

Hannibal misses Will’s kisses, the feeling of his body beneath him, the fire that licked at his skin that threatened what remained of his soul. He misses the touches between them the words dropped from mouths, the gasps and moans of prayer. He sits alone and wanting watching the empty space of where Will used to be.

Will can see clearly now for the first time, he can see through the flames, the caverns and the hollowed out darkness. He can see his god for what he is, he can see the altar he worshipped at dripping with blood, bleached bones and raw hearts. He knows now who he was praying to, who he was praying with. He still misses the scrape of fingernails down his back, the bite of a god drinking and lapping up his blood. He longs for the divine like a drug. He can still taste pain on his tongue, thick pomegranate juice flowing down his chin sticky and sweet. The path laid out for him calling for him with Hannibal's voice deep in the recesses of his mind.

Will smiles now at the darkness. He holds a small flame in the palm of his hand like a seed, it burns.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Comments are kept in a special box deep in my heart that I open when I'm feeling blue. Kudos are butterflies that make me smile in the dark xxx


End file.
